


Signals

by Val_Creative



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Cares About Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Humor, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 02, Reunion Sex, Roach Ships It (The Witcher), Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Geralt's vivid dreams of Renfri lead him to Jaskier in trouble.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 67
Collections: 10-Words-Challenge-2020





	Signals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cat2000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat2000/gifts).



> For the 10 words out of the list I had to choose from: " **sword, vampire, demon, blood, forgiveness, sweat, battle, wood, berries, water** " and I wanna thank my giftee for picking words I had fun with. Any thoughts/comments welcomed!

*

Renfri appears to him in dreams.

She's shrouded in grey morning mist, wearing it like her battle-armour, and points west. 

West is Redania and Geralt has no interest in going. He's looking for a kikimore that has been running loose in the wood. The villagers in Kovir call the beast " _demon_ " and " _vampire_ " but it's not. Still, Renfri appears night after night. She points west.

"You've come to me for a reason," Geralt murmurs, half-dreaming and half-waking. "Tell me what it is, Renfri."

She only points him with the tip of her longsword.

Blood gleams in Renfri's dark snarls of hair. Her expression pinched and solemn. Her dark eyes hooded. Geralt knows the taste of her in his memory and cannot think of living what happened a second time. Forgiveness blackens like cursed moon-water.

At dawn, Geralt packs Roach's saddle and fills his waterskin. 

*

Tretogor seeps and brightens with morninglight. A grey mist hangs over the inns and taverns and the Royal Palace itself.

Geralt finds himself cautious, wandering towards the towering stone buildings and keeping a hood over his head. It's best to be seen in a disguise if seen at all. He hand-feeds Roach berries from a pouch, listening to the soft, content nickers.

Roach tosses his head up, suddenly snorting. 

"What is it?" Geralt mumbles, petting his flank. His horse yanks the reins insistently and leads Geralt towards a commotion.

A crowd of twenty or thirty gathers outside of the Magistrate's building. Cries for bloodlust and savagery and execution rise, fall, and rise even more forcefully as the Constable himself and his enforcers step onto a wooden scaffold. They speak of a prisoner who despoiled a marriage between a Lord and a Lady— _fuck, Jaskier_ —Geralt comprehends this before he ever sees him.

Jaskier, with one of his cheeks puffing and plum-red, is hauled onto his knees by the Constable's feet. His blue eyes sullen.

"Witcher!" the Constable bellows, pointing to him with his sword hand. The crowd murmurs uneasily, now gawking. Geralt tsks, scowling from within his woolen hood. "What say you?! Do you not judge what needs be judged with eyes unclouded?!"

Geralt remains silent, but he keeps his sights a nonplussed Jaskier.

"What is to be done of the boy?!"

"The punishment must befit the crime," Geralt announces after a moment, rumbling low. "Give him to me."

One of the Constable's men scoffs, protesting.

"To _you_ , Witcher?"

"He has broken a sacred vow and will atone for it by killing such things deemed unsacred by nature." Geralt watches their faces tremour between distrust and sordid curiosity. "It will, very likely, kill him in the process," he adds for good measure.

The Lord whom Jaskier offended — a skeletal-looking man with frighteningly protruding eyes — leers at the mere thought. 

_"Do as the Witcher says!"_

Within a matter of moments, they release Jaskier into Geralt's custody, unshackling him. He's thrown forward. Whoever remains of the crowd hisses in disapproval as Jaskier steps down, pretending to bow and congratulate them on a spectacular and moving performance. Geralt waits for the other man to approach and brush the specks of dirt from his silken, violet tunic.

"You don't have to thank me—"

"Good," Jaskier cuts him off, forcing a wide, mocking smile. "I didn't plan to." Something suddenly in Geralt's chest twists. "You never wanted to see me again—you made that _very clear_ —now if you'll excuse me, I have supper planned with Lady Estrid—"

Geralt fists into Jaskier's tunic, halting him.

"You were given to me by the lawmakers," he recalls. "At least wait until we're out of Tretogor before dropping the charade."

Jaskier drops the smile, narrowing his eyes at Geralt. 

"I don't belong to you like _cattle_."

"This isn't a request."

"Geralt—" 

"I didn't mean it," Geralt confesses, unable to stop. If he could be mortified with himself, Geralt would be. Jaskier scrutinizes him less harshly. "As soon as you left, I realised what I said wasn't true. I know I don't deserve to be forgiven for it, Jaskier. I'm not asking you to. But I need to tell you this regardless of what you feel for me or I may never get the chance again."

Jaskier folds his arms, still plum-bruised and roughened, but looking more steadier than before.

"Oh, Geralt," he tuts. "That was a _gods-awful_ love confession. Surely you can do better than that for my sake."

Geralt's teeth set.

"That wasn't—"

Jaskier dismisses him, prattling on about where he's been and what he's been doing — and who he's been doing — until Geralt has one choice left. Geralt does the only thing he can do about Jaskier right now — kiss him good and silent. 

*

There's no more dreaming of Renfri.

Geralt sleeps and wakes to a room above The Golden Rooster's busy tavern illuminated by the warm firelight. His body feels the ease of the previous hour, muscles relaxed. He turns over, naked and reeking of sweat, to an equally naked Jaskier dozing.

He never expected Jaskier. Not in a century's time, and not if Geralt's life depends on it, could he have predicted having affections for someone like Jaskier. Perhaps… perhaps it was Renfri who sensed that and called to him. Geralt finds himself watching his bed-companion, gazing down on Jaskier's brown hair filigreed by gold-glow flamelight. Every angle of him real.

_"Are you going to stare all night… or are you going to kiss me, Geralt?"_

Blue eyes flutter open.

"Hrm." Geralt contemplates this, lifting himself and settling over Jaskier who arches on impulse, his hands bracketing Geralt's hips. Jaskier's cock already hardening up against Geralt. "I am going to fuck you until the Lady Estrid of Yamurlak can hear…"

A gleeful smile spreads on Jaskier's face until he winces pleasantly from his bruises.

Geralt allows himself a quiet, unthinking moment. His thumb strokes over the other man's jaw, avoiding the inflame-colored injuries. "Being gentle doesn't really suit you," Jaskier whispers, but not unkindly. He raises his eyebrows a little.

"For once," Geralt mutters, feeling along for Jaskier's come-slickened hole and pressing down. "You may be right."

*


End file.
